Been a long time. Been a hard week.
My grandmother had a stroke on Tuesday. Somebody asked me if we were close. It's hard to think about. What does close mean?
I don't see her often. I rarely ever call. I've thought for the last few years that every time we said goodbye would be Goodbye. But as we drove the six hours out and back this weekend, I realized I wasn't ready for it to be.
Losing someone is hard, but I think knowing you can't do anything for them is harder. Maybe that's selfish.
As I sat in the hospital room while she slept, I searched for anything to say that would show her what she means me. How strong I think she is. How much I hope to live long and well and full like her.
All I ended up with was silence, but I think she knew it was love.
I hope to tell her that soon.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Lawn Mowing - and why it blows chunks
After a brief period of blog-death, I decided that something exciting (i.e. frustrating) enough has happened to warrant posting.
Let me preface this by saying that start of school has kicked me in the behind in every sense of the phrase - including the 10+ hours of grading I did this weekend so that I could post grades for our first set of academic updates. It has been a good first four weeks, but I am pooped!
Anyway, after a faculty meeting and trip to the grocery store for someone much needed cat food, I arrived home today to find that everyone on our street managed to get their lawns mowed. Great. It's bad enough that we suck at all things requiring a green thumb, but now our jungle-length, patchy lawn stands out even more agains the nice, pretty mowed lines of our neighbors. We now look like the uncivilized heathens of lawn-care that we are.
So, since Suellen can't mow due to all the waiting, I don my tennis shoes and head out after dinner for my least favorite household chore (please God, give me laundry any day!). Now, my father was nice enough to get me a brand new, shiny lawn mower for birthday since we were on our second hand-me-down mower and it wasn't cutting it (cutting it...hahahaha...I'm amusing myself). However, since it's been so darn hot all summer, I've only used it twice and I've never done anything but mulch with it. Given the fact that our grass is tickling my legs well above the ankles in some places, it's clear to me that mulching just ain't gonna cut it. So I pull out all the various attachments and decide on the little side shooty thing. The grass maybe long, but surely it can just spit the long grass back out? That way I can just run it over with the mower again in some sort of faux-mulching action. This all makes perfect sense in the drive way. Reality, it turns out, is suspended in my drive way.
So, I succeed in mowing our tiny front lawn and most of the left hand side using the side-vent. I'm just putting along, merrily spewing grass chunks until I enter the 'deep woods' of our back yard. After the mower stalls for the 5th time, I decide to switch to bagging, WHICH IS MY ABSOLUTE LEAST FAVORITE THING EVER! Needless to say, I'm pretty pissed at this point, but I drag out the lawn mower bag and a the enviro-friendly paper bag to put the trimmings in, and start the mower up again. I walk about 10 feet and stop again. Why do you ask? Because our lawn is so over-grown the grass trimmings are forcing the bag away from the body of the mower so that it clogs up anyway!
So (yes, this is now the 3rd paragraph I've started with so) to make a long story somewhat shorter. After an hour and forty-five minutes and 12 re-starts of the lawn mower, we can now show our faces in the neighborhood. I am so thrilled to have done my part to keep America beautiful.
Now it's off to bed, where I will lie awake trying to thing of intellegent things to say about the literary merit of the pilgrims tomorrow. If you have any thoughts, I'm open to telepathic communication.
Let me preface this by saying that start of school has kicked me in the behind in every sense of the phrase - including the 10+ hours of grading I did this weekend so that I could post grades for our first set of academic updates. It has been a good first four weeks, but I am pooped!
Anyway, after a faculty meeting and trip to the grocery store for someone much needed cat food, I arrived home today to find that everyone on our street managed to get their lawns mowed. Great. It's bad enough that we suck at all things requiring a green thumb, but now our jungle-length, patchy lawn stands out even more agains the nice, pretty mowed lines of our neighbors. We now look like the uncivilized heathens of lawn-care that we are.
So, since Suellen can't mow due to all the waiting, I don my tennis shoes and head out after dinner for my least favorite household chore (please God, give me laundry any day!). Now, my father was nice enough to get me a brand new, shiny lawn mower for birthday since we were on our second hand-me-down mower and it wasn't cutting it (cutting it...hahahaha...I'm amusing myself). However, since it's been so darn hot all summer, I've only used it twice and I've never done anything but mulch with it. Given the fact that our grass is tickling my legs well above the ankles in some places, it's clear to me that mulching just ain't gonna cut it. So I pull out all the various attachments and decide on the little side shooty thing. The grass maybe long, but surely it can just spit the long grass back out? That way I can just run it over with the mower again in some sort of faux-mulching action. This all makes perfect sense in the drive way. Reality, it turns out, is suspended in my drive way.
So, I succeed in mowing our tiny front lawn and most of the left hand side using the side-vent. I'm just putting along, merrily spewing grass chunks until I enter the 'deep woods' of our back yard. After the mower stalls for the 5th time, I decide to switch to bagging, WHICH IS MY ABSOLUTE LEAST FAVORITE THING EVER! Needless to say, I'm pretty pissed at this point, but I drag out the lawn mower bag and a the enviro-friendly paper bag to put the trimmings in, and start the mower up again. I walk about 10 feet and stop again. Why do you ask? Because our lawn is so over-grown the grass trimmings are forcing the bag away from the body of the mower so that it clogs up anyway!
So (yes, this is now the 3rd paragraph I've started with so) to make a long story somewhat shorter. After an hour and forty-five minutes and 12 re-starts of the lawn mower, we can now show our faces in the neighborhood. I am so thrilled to have done my part to keep America beautiful.
Now it's off to bed, where I will lie awake trying to thing of intellegent things to say about the literary merit of the pilgrims tomorrow. If you have any thoughts, I'm open to telepathic communication.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Coming at You Live from...
Amy and Ben's kitchen. Baby-sitting on a Friday night. Wahoo! (I'm only joking. Between crazy game convention and a high school football game, watching Bryn is definety the best option.)
It's been a bit of a week for me. In fact, I think it's been one of the roughest starts to school that I've had. (This is the point where all my public school teaching friends groan and tell me to get over it). Now, I know that I see only a fraction of the students that my large, public district compatriots do, but my student load has doubled this year, I'm teaching twice the number of classes, have twice the number of mentees, and am sponsoring two independent study projects. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I love every piece of the 5,000 things that make me feel like a train has run me over by 1:37. I just wasn't quite ready for this week. I thought I was, but I forgot about the emotional drain of teaching. I get so energized for 45 minutes at a time that I crash afterwards. Who knew teaching writing had so much in common with herion addiction? Strike that. A lot of writer's did.
Well, whatever the week was, it's over. Suellen and I have safely navigated our charge to slumberland. I've finished grading a stack of essays (yep, I am that jerky teacher who assigns homework on the first day), and I'm betting that once Amy and/or Ben returns, I'll be off to slumberland as well.
It's been a bit of a week for me. In fact, I think it's been one of the roughest starts to school that I've had. (This is the point where all my public school teaching friends groan and tell me to get over it). Now, I know that I see only a fraction of the students that my large, public district compatriots do, but my student load has doubled this year, I'm teaching twice the number of classes, have twice the number of mentees, and am sponsoring two independent study projects. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I love every piece of the 5,000 things that make me feel like a train has run me over by 1:37. I just wasn't quite ready for this week. I thought I was, but I forgot about the emotional drain of teaching. I get so energized for 45 minutes at a time that I crash afterwards. Who knew teaching writing had so much in common with herion addiction? Strike that. A lot of writer's did.
Well, whatever the week was, it's over. Suellen and I have safely navigated our charge to slumberland. I've finished grading a stack of essays (yep, I am that jerky teacher who assigns homework on the first day), and I'm betting that once Amy and/or Ben returns, I'll be off to slumberland as well.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
The End of Summer
For me, summer officially ends tomorrow. We have our all-school picnic, and the kids come on Monday. Needless to say, I'm quite ready. While my lessons are planned, and everything is set on paper, I'm not mentally up to the task quite yet. Hopefully a yummy breakfast will kick-start me tomorrow, or something like that.
In other exciting news, this week has not been very exciting at all. I had meetings most of the week, and then Suellen and I drove to Bloomington for what is now know as the 'wine rack debacle.' So, about 3 weeks ago,my brother orders me a birthday present (bear in mind that my birthday is June 22). He doesn't tell me what it is, only that it's being shipped to his dorm. Then I get a call. It's too big to fit in his car, and could I please come pick it up. We couldn't coordinate schedules then, so he agreed to call me later. Well, he called later. Much later. As in Thursday afternoon on the day it had to be picked up by 4:00. So, Suellen and I move everything around to drive down there to find that my brother has bought me a 6 ft tall wine rack. (How he ever thought it would fit in his Geo Prism is beyond me). Now it is a very nice gift, but it's huge, and it won't hold all our bar ware/stem glasses. To cut a long story short, we drove 3 hours round trip to pick up a box that barely fit in our SUV, drive it back to Indy and take it directly to the Target and return it. Very thoughtful gift, made for a very long afternoon. But we found a replacement wine rack that fits and is functional, so it's not all bad.
That's about it. So much for summer.
In other exciting news, this week has not been very exciting at all. I had meetings most of the week, and then Suellen and I drove to Bloomington for what is now know as the 'wine rack debacle.' So, about 3 weeks ago,my brother orders me a birthday present (bear in mind that my birthday is June 22). He doesn't tell me what it is, only that it's being shipped to his dorm. Then I get a call. It's too big to fit in his car, and could I please come pick it up. We couldn't coordinate schedules then, so he agreed to call me later. Well, he called later. Much later. As in Thursday afternoon on the day it had to be picked up by 4:00. So, Suellen and I move everything around to drive down there to find that my brother has bought me a 6 ft tall wine rack. (How he ever thought it would fit in his Geo Prism is beyond me). Now it is a very nice gift, but it's huge, and it won't hold all our bar ware/stem glasses. To cut a long story short, we drove 3 hours round trip to pick up a box that barely fit in our SUV, drive it back to Indy and take it directly to the Target and return it. Very thoughtful gift, made for a very long afternoon. But we found a replacement wine rack that fits and is functional, so it's not all bad.
That's about it. So much for summer.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Mice, Not Mickey...or...D-Con Danger
Since our house was built in what used to be a cornfield, it makes some sense that every summer we get a little visit from some furry friends. Now the first year, they left willingly. I moved the nest, and they didn't come back. Last year was more involved. I stumbled upon newborn (I mean so newly born they looked like worms) mice. I couldn't bring myself to move them (and there by sentence them to death by neglect), but luckily my dad was coming down later in the week. I made him move it to a very safe space somewhere far away where I'm sure they lived happy mouse-lives until the end of their days. Despite being a traumatic experience, they mice left after we moved the babies and we had no more signs.
Until this year that is. For several weeks we've seen them run through the lawn while mowing. I'll admit. I ignored them for a while hoping they'd go away, but they didn't. So I set out to search the vast internet for humane ways of getting mice to leave. (I did not want to face the idea of picking dead mice up out of our lawn.) To my surprise, I found a vast array of products from 'sonic blasters' to stuffed owls to Predator Pee (yes, folks that's a brand name). Intrigued at the idea of covering my problem areas with bobcat urine, I ordered Shake Away Critter Repellent. I arrived in a discreet brown box and I shook, and I waited, and I shook again, and I waited. And, you guessed it - shocker - mice really aren't all that afraid of pee when they are already comfy living in your yard.
So we set out to find the main nest and resort to more deadly methods. I had been dismantling our rotting woodpile for a few weeks, and Suellen's brother Stu is in town so he helped me moved the rest of it today. I was sure we'd find them there. No luck. So Stu and I (well pretty much just Stu) lifted and moved our "patio" (by patio, I really mean the 3x3 ft concrete square outside our back down since we had to spend a bunch of money on cat surgery - see below - and couldn't afford to put in a patio this summer). Guess what. Mouse central. And they have probably already burrowed under the slab for our house. So Stu and I traveled to the local hardware store to seek defensive measures.
I should note here that I am a very paranoid person. If there is something to worry about - tornados, avian flu, bankrupcy - I'll generally worry about it. This partly why I didn't want to use mice poison in the first place. I'm afraid that our cats will escape and it eat. Or our neighbors' dogs THAT ARE CONSTANTLY IN OUR YARD (no anger there) will eat it. Or the kids next door will eat it. Or the baby birds on our porch will eat it. Or I'll accidentally get it on my hand and eat it. And then we'll all die. But I can't take the mice anymore. And I know I won't be able to take it if they decide to try and come in for the winter. So, Stu did the manly duty of placing mouse bait in the proper places, and now I'm waiting for D-Con to politely persuade my furry friends to live elsewhere.
Until then, it's just wait and worry.
Until this year that is. For several weeks we've seen them run through the lawn while mowing. I'll admit. I ignored them for a while hoping they'd go away, but they didn't. So I set out to search the vast internet for humane ways of getting mice to leave. (I did not want to face the idea of picking dead mice up out of our lawn.) To my surprise, I found a vast array of products from 'sonic blasters' to stuffed owls to Predator Pee (yes, folks that's a brand name). Intrigued at the idea of covering my problem areas with bobcat urine, I ordered Shake Away Critter Repellent. I arrived in a discreet brown box and I shook, and I waited, and I shook again, and I waited. And, you guessed it - shocker - mice really aren't all that afraid of pee when they are already comfy living in your yard.
So we set out to find the main nest and resort to more deadly methods. I had been dismantling our rotting woodpile for a few weeks, and Suellen's brother Stu is in town so he helped me moved the rest of it today. I was sure we'd find them there. No luck. So Stu and I (well pretty much just Stu) lifted and moved our "patio" (by patio, I really mean the 3x3 ft concrete square outside our back down since we had to spend a bunch of money on cat surgery - see below - and couldn't afford to put in a patio this summer). Guess what. Mouse central. And they have probably already burrowed under the slab for our house. So Stu and I traveled to the local hardware store to seek defensive measures.
I should note here that I am a very paranoid person. If there is something to worry about - tornados, avian flu, bankrupcy - I'll generally worry about it. This partly why I didn't want to use mice poison in the first place. I'm afraid that our cats will escape and it eat. Or our neighbors' dogs THAT ARE CONSTANTLY IN OUR YARD (no anger there) will eat it. Or the kids next door will eat it. Or the baby birds on our porch will eat it. Or I'll accidentally get it on my hand and eat it. And then we'll all die. But I can't take the mice anymore. And I know I won't be able to take it if they decide to try and come in for the winter. So, Stu did the manly duty of placing mouse bait in the proper places, and now I'm waiting for D-Con to politely persuade my furry friends to live elsewhere.
Until then, it's just wait and worry.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
So...Yeah...
Ok, so much for the summer-long deadication to the art of Blogging. A whopping 3 posts. How prolific. But, I did find this easy enough to use as an English project, and it will really cut down on the lower back injuries that result from carrying a crate of paper journals around all year. So, I guess it wasn't all for naught.
A few other updates...
Kitty Finn, our beloved, fat, transgendered cat, tore her ACL. You might be asking yourselve how a cat tears her ACL. To answer that puzzle, I've composed the following dramatic re-enactment starring Finn and much more athletic brother, Maxx.
Maxx: Hey Finn. How's it going?
Finn: Zzzzzzz
Maxx: Wanna run around and howl today?
Finn: Zzzzzz merp zzzzzz
Maxx: No, huh? So how 'bout I just bite your head? (bites head)
Finn: Merp merp (runs away)
Maxx: Oh yeah? A runner, huh? (chases fat cat)
(Fueled by terror, Finn mounts the counter top, then the fridge, then the cabinets, and finally lands on the 9 ft plant shelf)
Finn: Hiss Hiss Merp
Maxx: Oh! You want to play mountain-climbers. I LOVE that game
(Maxx follows Finn's path to the plant shelf)
Finn: (now petrified by fear) Merp Merp Merp Merp
Maxx: Isn't this sweet? We're up so high.
(Finn misinterprets Maxx's small for threatening cat-calling, and tries to scale down the opposite side of the 9 ft shelf, but she's too fat to combat gravity)
Finn: MEOW (drags legs around on carpet, hobbles off)
Maxx: What? You don't want to play.
FIN
And that's pretty much been my summer.
A few other updates...
Kitty Finn, our beloved, fat, transgendered cat, tore her ACL. You might be asking yourselve how a cat tears her ACL. To answer that puzzle, I've composed the following dramatic re-enactment starring Finn and much more athletic brother, Maxx.
Maxx: Hey Finn. How's it going?
Finn: Zzzzzzz
Maxx: Wanna run around and howl today?
Finn: Zzzzzz merp zzzzzz
Maxx: No, huh? So how 'bout I just bite your head? (bites head)
Finn: Merp merp (runs away)
Maxx: Oh yeah? A runner, huh? (chases fat cat)
(Fueled by terror, Finn mounts the counter top, then the fridge, then the cabinets, and finally lands on the 9 ft plant shelf)
Finn: Hiss Hiss Merp
Maxx: Oh! You want to play mountain-climbers. I LOVE that game
(Maxx follows Finn's path to the plant shelf)
Finn: (now petrified by fear) Merp Merp Merp Merp
Maxx: Isn't this sweet? We're up so high.
(Finn misinterprets Maxx's small for threatening cat-calling, and tries to scale down the opposite side of the 9 ft shelf, but she's too fat to combat gravity)
Finn: MEOW (drags legs around on carpet, hobbles off)
Maxx: What? You don't want to play.
FIN
And that's pretty much been my summer.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
And S is for Shingles
As if a rousing weekend full of softball wasn't enough, I decided to give myself an extra special birthday present - shingles. If you don't know what shingles are, they are a kind of adult chicken pox; but in addition to itching, they burn...a lot, and all over. My mother has been thinking of getting the new shingles vaccine for a long time, and now I've encouraged her too. This is one of the most painful things I've ever had. The good news is that I'm on a bunch of medication now that makes day-to-day work barely livable, and I'm not contagious. Unfortunately, I don't have the energy to do a whole bunch. But maybe now that it looks like I'll have some free time on my hands, I'll actually get some lesson planning done.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Summer is for Softball
If I had to choose one way to spend my birthday, it would not be getting up early, driving to Cincinnati and watching a 16 & under girls' softball tournament. In fact, the only birthday agenda worse than that would be getting up early, driving to Cincinnati, having the tournament get postponed due to rain, and spending the day in crappy hotel in Kentucky. Which is what I did yesterday. For my birthday. Oh boy.
Suellen and I have now watched her sisters play softball in five different states, and every time we attend a tournament I am amazed at the spectacle of competitive travel sports. Since the most athletic I ever got in the summer was park department sports and swimming lessons, the idea of packing my whole family into an SUV and caravanning around the country to sit in the sun and dust is less than appealing to me; however, to die hard softball fans, like the ones I spent my birthday with, it's the best thing since sliced bread. It would have to be I guess, seeing that they spend almost every weekend of the summer on the road, with softball gear and no fewer than three coolers in the trunk. While I will probably never understand the need to yell along with dugout cheering or the desire to motorcade to the next destination, I have begun to appreciate the sport, which is actually a lot more strategic than I ever realized in the 6th grade. With the rotation of players, pitchers and batters, it's more of a chess game than a contest of strength. At least chess is something I can understand.
Suellen and I have now watched her sisters play softball in five different states, and every time we attend a tournament I am amazed at the spectacle of competitive travel sports. Since the most athletic I ever got in the summer was park department sports and swimming lessons, the idea of packing my whole family into an SUV and caravanning around the country to sit in the sun and dust is less than appealing to me; however, to die hard softball fans, like the ones I spent my birthday with, it's the best thing since sliced bread. It would have to be I guess, seeing that they spend almost every weekend of the summer on the road, with softball gear and no fewer than three coolers in the trunk. While I will probably never understand the need to yell along with dugout cheering or the desire to motorcade to the next destination, I have begun to appreciate the sport, which is actually a lot more strategic than I ever realized in the 6th grade. With the rotation of players, pitchers and batters, it's more of a chess game than a contest of strength. At least chess is something I can understand.
Monday, June 18, 2007
You Gotta Start Sometime...
So I've decided to submit to the pull of the internet and start blogging - partly for keeping in touch, partly for writing pratice, and partly to see if I could blogging a viable classroom project. I don't have much to say right now, but check back soon. I'm sure I'll have something to say then.
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